Somebody Told Me
by Rattlecat
Summary: Chapter 6: Ice Queen, featuring Thundercracker and Skywarp. WARNINGS: Some Chapters may contain slash related content. Read at your own risk.
1. Rain: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker

Alright. I'm working on a series of one-shot TF songfics called "Somebody Told Me". The idea is a self-challenge to me, so I can test how I think the characters of Tranformers are to me, and how they would react to certain situations. Each one-shot is named after its inspirational song. Unlike those boring songfics though, and the bad ones, I place the song lyrics before the fic itself so you understand where the inspiration come from. Sometimes, you have to listen to the actual song in order to understand the mood of the fic. But let's see how you do. Each one-shot has one main character, and one minor character. 

---  
**Song:** Rain - Breaking Benjamin  
**Characters:** Sideswipe, Sunstreaker  
**Summary:** Not everyone enjoys when it rains...  
--- 

**Rain**

---

Silence. It was the same silence he believed Bluestreak always tried to hide from. It was the same silence that everyone seemed to fear for some reason, as if it was going to just pull all of the energon out of any of their bodies, just so it can laugh and reap in the pleasures it gets from their screams. At least, it seemed to be that way. The silence however had its interruptions, such as the pitter patter of the rain dropping outside. He never really noticed it before, but apparently it had begun after he had gone to the quiet area of the Ark. He didn't particularily like the rain. In fact, he probably didn't like it because Bumblebee had constantly told him how horrid the rain seemed to be. Compass and Bluestreak seemed to like the rain though, but Bumblebee didn't. In fact, Bumblebee didn't like the water period. Sideswipe decided that he shouldn't like it. Not because he didn't like the sound of it, or how it made his circuitry wet, or especially how the acid rain affected him on Cybertron. He didn't like it because it hid something dear from him. It threatened to take away the very thing he lived for. The sun. His sun.

To many of the other Autobots, Sideswipe had spoken to Compass and Bluestreak in particular; but to some of the others it seemed a little corny that he even took a liking to his brother. Spike had once told him about the conflicts he had with his own brother, Buster, but it didn't sound anything like the relationship Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had. They absolutely adored each other. In fact, the only time they ever seemed to fought was when one missed a shot at the Decepticons, and the other taunted him about it. Or whenever one of them did something so completely moronic and stupid that the other almost lost his life over it, and they sat there mourning over each other, occasionally muttering the other one was stupid, stupid, stupid. Always stupid. You're stupid. And then one of the Autobots would speak up and end the emotions there, and all would go back as it usually had.

But today Sideswipe couldn't sit there with his brother and call him stupid. In fact, he didn't even have another Autobot in the room to change the subject and clear up the situation. Today, all he had was the rain, and the small spark inside him that had split in two. One part of it was screaming, the other trying to calm it down. "It's over! He's gone! It's all over! There's nothing left here for you!" The other cried, "No! He's out there. Give him a chance to come back! Don't leave here not knowing the truth!" It reminded him of the one book Carly brought over. Romeo and Juliet by some milkshake dude. He couldn't remember. But he knew the ending. Carly said it was the only reason the book became a classic. The one died for the other, thinking the other was dead, only to have the other wake up, and find the one dead, so the other killed himself, and the both of them were dead, and finally together. First Aid had once told him that Sunstreaker mentioned something about that, when Sides was out on a mission and all seemed lost. He told him that his sun was going to just get it over with and kill his spark. If Sides followed, there wouldn't be a need for either of them to worry anymore. They'd still be together. All of them had laughed over it, but behind that laugh was meaning. And that was all that had mattered.

A crack of thunder startled Sideswipe from his thoughts, and a flash of lightning whipped itself to the ground from the black clouds. The rain never ceased for a moment, and kept coming down in blankets. The thunder only reminded him of the crackle. The crackle of the transmitter as it had died out on all of them. The Ark was left in darkness, only lit up by the emergency lights that had been strung throughout its skeleton. Sideswipe felt like the Ark that evening to be honest. Left in darkness. No one had heard from Prime, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Sunstreaker or Bluestreak for the past hour. The last message sent to the Ark was from Sunstreaker, and he was cut off by the sounds of a familiar cannon. Sideswipe's entire body felt like it had ceased to function. He had died along with the transmission, and that had been when the rain begun. And it had yet to stop. He had tried one of those rain dances, and one of the sun dances. Anything to stop the rain. But it had ceased. He even had tried to talk to the moon that was still hidden behind the mountains, and even to the Ark itself, trying to find some sort of comfort. But none had worked. And so he sat alone in his and his brother's quarters. And he listened to the rain.

"Rain, rain, go away... Come again another day...All the world is waiting for the sun..." He whispered to himself, placing his back to the wall. He'd heard the song somewhere, he just didn't know where. It was another one of those human tunes Jazz had taken a liking too. Except, he had made it into a much more mellow song than it had originally been. Apparently, the real song required one in melancholy, and Sideswipe had all the melancholy in the world to give to it's melody. He silently pondered to himself the lyrics, and there was another crack of the thunder. It was louder this time, and he grabbed the front of his chest to slow it down. He wished he could stop the rain, but it had made itself as stubborn as he. The world was waiting for the sun. And the sun had not showed up yet. So it was there that the rain fell into a puddle beneath him. Small rivers began to make their way across the floor, but there wasn't any lightning this time. Only the thunder every so often when he gasped for breath, and more rain to fill the puddle. Time and time again, he tried to stop it, but it wasn't stopping. He did however, stop the thunder. That was a start.

Outside, Bumblebee and Spike sat alongside the Ark, waiting patiently with Ironhide. Ironhide looked around, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. "What could be taking them so long? Wheeljack said he'd have the transmitters fixed soon."

"I dunno Ironhide, sometimes Wheeljack can't fix everything." Spike looked up at the Autobot. Bumblebee nodded in agreement with a small chuckle.

"Well. It could be worse," The volkswagen smiled. "It could be raining,"

"Thank goodness for summer, right?"

"Right."


	2. Enter: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe

-  
**Song: **Enter Sandman - Metallica  
**Characters:** Sideswipe, Sunstreaker  
**Summary:** They told him it was just an after effect of the fight...that it was only in his head.  
---

**Enter**

---

_

Now I lay you down to sleep.

_ Sunstreaker's optics pierced the darkness of the room as he awoke with a start. There it was again. He scanned the area, with what light he was able to provide with his optics. He didn't want to wake his brother, not over something he'd sworn he'd get over. He stared at the doorway, as if perhaps it would be frightened enough by him to stay shut. After a moment, his optics dimmed.

_

I prayed my lord a soul to keep...

_ Once again, the room filled with the slightest hint of blue. Sideswipe was going to have a seizure of laughter if he found out Sunstreaker was awake because of a stupid dream. He'd had these 'voices' occur more than enough to be called The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and he didn't need anymore taunts. But still, he glanced around the room. It wasn't that he was afraid of the dark...it was more he was afraid of the darkness, which was completely different from being afraid of the dark. Silence followed for quite some time, and Sunstreaker once again shut his optics.

_

If you die, before you wake...

_ This time, Sunstreaker bolted from his position, cocking a loaded weapon towards the door. He stepped against the wall, and made his way around the room until his hand rested on the door frame. Pushing the switch, a small beep signalled the release of the security locks, and it slid open quietly. Stepping outside the room, the gun still in hand, Sunstreaker glanced about in the dim hallway light of the Ark. There wasn't anything living, small or large, artificial or natural that was in range of his eyesight. He pondered leaving the room, but the thought of leaving his brother with the 'thing' didn't seem too intelligent either. He gave a heavy sigh, and leaned against the frame. Four nights ago, the same thing had occured, and then four nights before that. Then again, he couldn't really remember if it was really four nights ago, but his brother had claimed he'd sat down with Ratchet and they both realized the pattern. He wouldn't of believed him first off had Ratchet's name not been mentioned; but the name had been mentioned and because of it, Sunstreaker had taken caution.

_

I prayed my lord your soul to take.

_ Sunstreaker's mind didn't realize he was having a panic attack until the fans turned on, attempting to cool his internal system. He was breathing heavily, and for a moment he tried to pass it off as his breath that was making him hear things. Was he really breathing that hard though? "Knock it off, Sideswipe." He hissed into the night air. He didn't think for a moment that it was Sideswipe, but he was trying to force his brain to comprehend it as such. Sideswipe couldn't imitate other voices very well. He knew it too. "For Primus' sake, knock it off..." Sunstreaker meant for it to come out a bit more forceful, but it ended up as a tight whisper, as if something had caught in his throat. He backed into the room again, but kept his hand on the door frame to prevent the door from shutting and leaving him in darkness again.

_

Night Terrors?

_ With a shout, he turned and attacked. Finally, his tormentor had the nerve to try and whisper something right next to his audio sensor. He pressed the gun hard against the other body, making sure the intruder was aware there was a gun to his chest. His mind was running through a series of questions and curses, blocking out his victim's constant whispering. He just wanted him to stop the whispering. "Just stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!" He screamed, pushing the barrel as hard as he could against the other's chest. The whispering grew louder and stronger as they became yells. Sunstreaker glared down at the shadow, gritting his teeth. It took him a few minutes to realize he recognized the cries, and he finally calmed himself enough to listen to them closely.

"Sunny! It's me!! Seriously, put it down!" His brother's voice invaded his sensors as he continued to struggle from underneath the yellow Lamborgini. Sunstreaker overloaded himself, and the gun dropped from his hand in shock, the rest of him collapsing on top of Sideswipe. The red one caught him in one arm, while using the other to pull the gun from between them. He supported himself against the wall, pulling his brother closer to him. "Suns! Suns!" He called, shaking the limp form in front of him. Sunstreaker groaned audibly, and his optics were dimly lit. Sides let out a sigh of relief as he slightly shook himself while supporting his brother. "I ask you a simple question and you come after me as if I'm Starscream..."

Moments passed before Sideswipe decided to help his brother back to their resting area. Whatever had spooked the bot had definitely done a good job of it, and it scared him. This had been a reoccurring incident for a while, and it had to be solved one way or another, otherwise Sunstreaker was going to literally take someone's head off. It was bad enough to see him in a bad mood when he wasn't left in the dark. He sat down next to Sunstreaker after the bot was laying on his back, just staring at the ceiling. "You alright?"  
"...Yeah."  
"You sure? You almost put a hole in my chest." Sunstreaker thought for a moment, before realizing there was no fighting the truth, especially to his own brother. He had nearly killed him over it, after all. "I heard them again tonight. I thought you were asleep." Sideswipe narrowed his eyes, squinting in the darkness at his twin's optics. "I was outside talking to Bluestreak. He was having trouble getting to sleep too. Memories again." Sunny nodded slowly.

_

Off to Neverland, dear brother?

_ The yellow bot froze, staring at the ceiling with only the comfort of his brother's shadow being illuminated by the hallway lights. He nervously slid his hand over Sideswipe's, and clenched it tightly, shaking. Sideswipe looked down at his hand, and squeezed it slightly. "Stop it..." Sunny muttered.  
"I'm not doing anything, bro."  
"You said something."  
"No, I didn't. Do you want me to go get Ratchet?"  
"No." The response was disturbing, as it seemed horribly forced from Sunstreaker's throat. Sides could feel the tension building as his hand was the target of Sunny's fear. He winced as a sharp pain invaded his palm, but withstood it. The two sat in silence, and Sideswipe leaned down off of the bed so he could be somewhat nearer to Sunny.

_

Hush...

_ It was Sideswipe's turn to grasp his brother's hand in fear. It wasn't so much what it could have been, but the tone of the voice itself was enough to send chills to his very spark. Sunstreaker replied silently with another squeeze.

_

Don't say a word...

_ The red lambo glanced around in the darkness, until he spotted the door frame itself and the dim lights of the hallway. He whispered something to his brother quietly, and his order was refused. He tried again, and finally the pressure on his hand was released. In his head, he counted to himself quietly, and on the final number, thrust himself towards the door. He did it quickly, causing alot of noise in the process as his foot skidded across the floor while he picked himself up. He grasped the door frame and ran his hand up until he hit the switch. With a soft click, the lights in the room flicked on, drenching the area in a bright white. Sunstreaker looked around the room, noticing that nothing was out of place, nothing moved or changed. His brother did the same, remaining in a defensive pose. "I'm going to go get Ratchet."  
"No."  
"I'm going to get Ratchet." Before his brother could stop him, Sideswipe disappeared from the room, catching only the vulgar language of his twin. He was quite noisy, clanking heavily as he made his way down the halls towards Ratchet's homestead. Somehow, it was soothing, and it kept whatever he had heard out of his head. With this comfort, he stomped down harder, not caring if he woke up the entire Ark.

Sunstreaker listened to his brother's footsteps, and sat up on the bed, staring at the ground. The voice had stopped for now, and he wondered if it was just some malfunctioning in his head that was the cause for it. His logic however reasoned that had it been so, Sideswipe wouldn't have heard it as well, but he didn't know Sideswipe to carry out a trick unless it was for some wild surprise party Ratchet threatened him about to keep quiet. For a few moments, after the noisy mech had disappeared, silence covered the room, leaving room for Sunstreaker to actually think. Not that it mattered too much, for as soon as the first traces of logic had begun to enter his mind, the room's light shut off, and darkness consumed the hold. He looked up, and in the doorway was a large figure. Its hand was on the lightswitch. Another soft click, and the lights came back on, revealing nothing. Sunstreaker stared, body rigid as he watched the doorway.

Click.  
Click.  
Click.  
Click.

Every time the lights went out, the figure appeared again, and every time they were on, there was nothing there. Sunny grabbed his head, and shook it. "STOP IT." He shouted, unsure of whether it was towards the figure or his own mind. It was becoming frustrating to have these stupid dreams, these visions that were nothing more than a product of being awake for too long, fighting in the war for so long, or just putting up with stress for a constant stream of time. He begged in his mind to just make it stop, to make it go away. He even muttered to himself he'd shut down just for the sake of making it go away, but shook that thought away instantly when he realized how selfish it was.

_

Click.

_ The lights were off again. This time, Sunstreaker's barriers were shot, and he bolted from the bed, standing up and assuming a combat position, fists raised to punch at whatever was at the door. "WHAT DO YOU WANT!?" He screamed as he flew at the doorway. A soft click echoed as the lights came back on, and he froze in midstep, optics wide.

_

I want you to die.

_ Sideswipe banged on the door furiously, and finally, it slid open. He stopped in midswing, almost striking Ratchet in the face. The medic glared daggers at the brother. He hadn't had a good night to begin with, what with having to patch up seven Autobots in the time that was reserved for another plan. He was frustrated, aggravated, and above all, angry that such events took place today. Seeing Sideswipe, his most common patient standing before him, his fist inches from his head didn't improve matters.

"What." The word sliced through the air so thickly that Sideswipe pondered just running back the way he came. But he kept a straight face, and took a breath.  
"Sunstreaker." His voice caught for a moment, his mind racing to figure out what exactly to say. If he said he heard the voices too, Ratchet would think the both of them were insane. The older mech continued to glare at him.  
"What." He repeated.  
"Night terrors." The younger said. This time, Ratchet's expression softened, and he slammed the door in Sideswipe's face. Sideswipe stood there, listening to the rustling and clinking going on behind the door. Seconds later, it opened again, and Ratchet exited with a box of tools in his hand. Sideswipe moved aside to let the cranky medic through, and walked at a safe distance as the two made their way silently back down to the twins' room.

When the two arrived, the door was shut, and it was silent on the other side. Ratchet felt like blowing a gasket if this was one of Sideswipe's tricks, but he'd experienced Sunstreaker's condition too many times lately to have this be one of Sides' antics. He paused at the door, and tapped on it gently. Sideswipe looked over his shoulder down the hall. He could of sworn someone had said something. "Sides. Now." Sideswipe shook his head, and looked at Ratchet, who pointed to the number pad beside the door. He nodded and the lamborgini quickly tapped the code in, and the door slid open.

_

Nevermind the noise you heard...

_ Sideswipe panicked, throwing his fist up over his shoulder. The voice was too close to have trouble hitting its owner. Ratchet gazed at Sideswipe curiously, and the brother looked over his shoulder. Nothing. He glanced down both ways, and nothing. The hallway lights were as dim as usual, and there was no sounds of footsteps other than his own as he pivoted. Ratchet stepped into the room and switched the lights on. In an instant, he backed out and grabbed Sideswipe's shoulder, spinning the bot around away from the room. "Go wake up First Aid,"  
"Why?" He tried to turn, but Ratchet kept a strong hold on him, digging his elbow into the other's back.  
"Just do it. I want to make sure my diagnostics are correct when I do this." Sideswipe stepped forward, and Ratchet released his grip. He kept himself in the doorway, not allowing Sideswipe any access, and turned only when Sides started to head down the hall. He looked at the room, and shot around when he felt Sides' presence. " Sideswipe, NO!" He shouted. The twin stood there, his mouth slightly ajar. His whole body was rigid as his optics seemed to get wider with every long minute. He wasn't breathing, and from the expression, Ratchet didn't believe he was thinking.

"Su---" He choked, and flung himself to the floor. Ratchet kneeled down and grabbed a hold of him, looking up. Across the room, Sunstreaker's body was slack against the wall, his arms outward, as if making a cross, the large nails the only thing supporting him as they were jammed into his wrists. His head lay on the ground, face away from them, and the name "Dead End" was engraved deeply in the back of one of the headfins. 


	3. Lying Is The Most: Prowl, Jazz

I'm sure you guys are looking for a bit of relief from the last two fics of depression, so here's a more mellow one-shot featuring everyone's seemingly favorite couple. Let step up the beat a bit, shall we? One, Two, Three, Four! One, Two, Three, Four! 

---  
**Song: **Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have With Her Clothes On - Panic! At The Disco  
**Characters:** Prowl, Jazz  
**Summary:** Logically speaking, he could of simply lied about his feelings to himself, but that wouldn't seem illogical, wouldn't it?  
--- 

**Lying Is The Most**

---

One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.  
One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four. 

One. Two. Three. Four. The counting could of been for a song beginning to start, a band beginning to play, a game beginning to end, a timer beginning to ring, an aggravation beginning to cease. It could of been for a rich man and his money, a poor man and his pennies, a student and the school clock, a cellmate and the tiles on the ceiling. But the voice was too calm to be anything near those. The voice was too haunting and beautifully in tune with the beat to be anything near those. The voice belonged to someone just as calm and carefree, but strict when it came to staying focused on his passions. Instead, the counting belonged to the voice, and the voice belonged to the owner, the dancer, the one inside of his room practicing for a stage performance that would decide who won the million dollars. The numbers continued to be counted off, repetitively, and with each number spoken was a tap on the floor as his feet came in contact. It would of been a perfect number, a perfect performance, a perfect moment to walk in and wish him luck, but he already had someone. The two shadows were connected and in tune with each other as they danced in the dim light. It angered him.

Logically speaking, he could of cared less. He could of been sitting in his office pondering over the last set of numbers delivered to his desk, then spending the next few hours awake in the night typing up the reports and sending them to Optimus Prime. Logically speaking, he could of believed it never happened, if belief was a logical thing. He could of walked down the other hall and met up with the twins, and listen to the medic chew them out as he attempted to connect the wires again in Sideswipe's leg, all the while the screaming echoing out of the medical bay; everyone knew that Sideswipe was too tough to be shut off during Ratchet's procedures, even if it meant he lost his vocals over it. Of course, this was all logic speaking. It would be absurd for some reason he was thrown from that track. The perfect and reasonable track of logic. But as absurd as it sounded, he frowned at the thought that it may be true.

There was a chuckle from inside the room, and he recognized it at once. He clenched his fists as the shadows stopped momentarily, and listened. Whispers, another chuckle, and more whispers. And then it began again. This time, it was him counting off, and the other two were quietly moving across the floor, a click, a thunk, a tap here and there. It was here that the piano registered in his mind, and pressed a series of chords through his core. Every so often an individual key would be tapped, and he would respond ever so slightly, but with each individual key that was tapped, whatever the equivalent of a human's heart was hit directly with a mace. It struck him again, and soon, he was pushed against the wall, his optics dimmed, doorwings lightly scraping against the metal of the wall seperating him from the dancers. He was not a dancer, and it was this thought that racked his mind with the reasons his logical side had tried to console him with. At this point in time however, he wasn't so sure it was logic trying to reason as much as it was his emotions. Prowl learned long ago that emotions made you succumb to decisions you never wished to make; they made the decisions so much easier, but later, disasterous to the long-term cause. He forced himself to believe in the logical side and to train himself vigorously to always think that way. In a few years he had succeeded, but here again, since his time on earth, the unreasonable and emotional had struggled to take over.

He kept himself pressed against the wall, listening to the lyrics of the music from the other side. He never found out what had made it so appealing enough that Jazz would choose to listen to it, but then again Jazz was easy to amuse and things appealed to him if they were simplistic enough. The lyrics seemed to fit the two inside, but outside, they made no sense whatsoever to him. Prowl stared up at the ceiling and began to mouth his own lyrics to the music, temporarily consoling himself in the process. He had too much work to do to be standing here, but he couldn't pull himself away anymore. It was too late and he was caught by the notorious villian, and his henchmen had chained him to the wall so he couldn't escape, and he would be used for some cruel and disgraceful experiment later. Somewhere in his mind jumped the idea that he was simply there to be tortured, and if it was so, than it had been successfully done as he felt himself being whipped harshly. If that wasn't the emotional side speaking to him, then the logical side had something to say instead. The logical side stated that instead of being chained to the wall by his enemy, he was moreso jealous. It wasn't a feeling he had frequently, if at all in the past, but now it dug into him, leaving scars in his body. It raked its claws underneath of the metal and into the wires, uncaring how sensitive they are, unsympathetic to the acids that were beginning to spill. It growled threateningly into his audio sensors, and was climbing onto him to take over its prize. In an attempt to rid of his victim it opened its jaws widely, ready to bite into his neck, but at the last second, when the teeth began to scrape across the nape of his neck, it retreated, bounding off in cries of agony.

Prowl froze as he returned to the present, to reality, and to the fact the door to Jazz's room was open, and Mirage had already made it down the length of the hallway, unaware he was there at all. A hand was set down lightly on his shoulder, making him jump. Jazz chuckled and pulled Prowl back against his chest, sliding his fingers down an arm and grasping the other's hand.

"I can't tell whether you're green or blue." Jazz mused. Prowl made a confused face, looking down at his hand. He wasn't either color, and the light wasn't affecting his---then it registered. Inwardly, Prowl groaned at his lack of common sense for the moment, and he narrowed his optics at the saboteur.

"Neither."

"No? Then I have permission to fetch Huffer?" Jazz was toying with his mind and he knew it, more than he knew some other things but, the fact Jazz had mentioned a name with the taunt sent an arrow of jealousy to his spark, momentarily disabling it. He turned and grabbed the Porsche, pushing him into the room, the door sliding shut behind them, almost clipping his doorwing. Jazz could only grin as he stumbled backwards against a machine. Prowl noticed the glow from the machine and glanced over at it. ENERGON was illuminated in bright neon purple, the background a contrasting orange. He frowned, and looked at Jazz.

"What is that?" He inquired. Jazz glanced over his shoulder, then smiled.

"One of Wheeljack's experiments. Spike told him about a strange machine that dispatches aluminum cans---but they don't transform." Prowl could only continue to frown at the increasing amount of humanoid items starting to appear around the Ark, and here Jazz had decided to decorate his room with one as well. It occured to him that this was the reason for the shadows dancing across the walls earlier. Prowl gave a sigh, and Jazz peered at him. "You're right. You're turquoise." The Datsun glared at him, before pulling away. He found it awkward that when he didn't have access to Jazz a moment ago, he was much more wanting. Only now, the two of them present in the room made him as annoying as usual. Prowl had work to do, and this was a mere distraction that had already faded from his mind. Turning, he went to leave before hearing the steady music coming from the speakers lining the walls. He stopped and gazed up at the speakers aligned with one another, creating the effect of a wallpaper banner as they continued their pattern around the room. The pattern was the same, from larger speaker to small, and small to large. Each one vibrated as the sound rang out from them, even though it was a low frequency. He watched the shadow of Jazz cross the room to the main stereo, pressing a button gently. A series of clicks and hisses emitted from inside the machine as it changed discs. It finally settled with one, and he turned up the volume as it began to play. Jazz learned earlier that he didn't have to do too much in order to keep Prowl where he wanted him, but he found it a perfect opportunity when he could send him over the edge or when he had to play hard to get.

He danced across the room over to Prowl, taking his time and choosing his movements carefully as he slid around his mate. The music seemed to get louder with each step he took around the tactician, but maybe it was because Prowl was paying attention, a little too much attention to the saboteur as he moved about. For only a moment, Prowl thought back to the day Spike and Carly saw Jazz dancing. It amazed them that the mechs could move so freely and fluidly as if they were human themselves. Prowl had some reason he explained, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what he had said. If he had to explain it again, it would only be that it was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen since they had landed on the planet; even that was underneath the proper definition. His thoughts were shaken away abruptly when he felt Jazz's hand take his own, the other sliding gently down his side to his waist. His mate's smile was up close, and his optics lit up.

"Daydreaming again?"

"...It's 8:32:04 in the evening. 05. 06." Jazz chuckled and nodded as if he was actually paying attention to him, but in reality, he was more focused on his feet as he began to move, taking Prowl with him. The Datsun hesitated, looking down as he tried to keep track of what Jazz was doing. The Porsche stopped and took his hand from Prowl's waist, lifting his chin.

"Eyes on me. Let me lead." He smiled and replaced his hand in its previous place, and once again the two began to move, Jazz taking the first step as Prowl followed. Prowl realized he was definitely not thinking logically; he hadn't been thinking logically since he first walked down this particular hallway, past this particular room. Every so often he would realize, and every so often he would lose track of that logic, like now. It only occurred to him now that the song was on repeat, and that it blended its ending into its beginning, so that a beat was never missed as it transferred from one to the other. The idea that Jazz would do such a thing seemed so obvious to him now that he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. Then again, it mustn't have been that important, or it had lost its importance somewhere in the past as he realized something new. The presence of a sound that was completely angelic. The singer's voice had seemed to die out of the song itself, and had been replaced with another better voice, if that was all he had to define it. His vision seemed to return to him as he saw the saboteur singing the lyrics to him, closer to him then before when he was just beginning to get his logic back. Prowl scrapped his foot against the ground, skipping over the beat, and Jazz stopped to catch him in case he fell.

"Train kinda missed the station, huh?" He joked. The Datsun looked up at him.

"What?"

"Your train of thought."

"...Clever." In his mind, Prowl found that it was pretty clever, had he not been the butt of the joke. Jazz smiled.

"Where was it that we last left off?" His smile turned into a grin as he began to move again, and once again Prowl danced along with him. He must of subconciously learned the moves because at times it felt at if he was the one leading; either that or Jazz was taking coffee breaks every few minutes.

For the next hour, the two danced to the same song, the same beat, the same rhythm, the same melody. It didn't matter to one that it was on repeat, because there was a reason for him to put it on repeat; and it didn't matter to one that it was on repeat, because he was repeating the same thing over with someone who had brainwashed him, sort of. As the two continued to dance to the song repeatedily, it occured to one that there were more than just the singer and the drum in the song. He would begin to pick up the vocals behind the singer, and the chimes, and the guitar, and the subtle violin hiding behind the latter. Then, as the night continued to creep up on the both of them, and as the energy was slowly running out of them, even though they were barely exerting any effort on either's part, he noticed the same piano he had heard earlier. With each individual key that was tapped this time however, he felt a connection that continued to have parts added on. He felt the same as he would when he finished a report for Prime, minus the frustration of knowing there was another report to write up on his desk. This time, he didn't mind it at all. In fact, this time, he took his time tapping. Each. Individual. Key. One. Two. Three. Four.

One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.  
One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.


	4. Breathe In: Frenzy, Unknown

Ah, this, this I'm unsure of what this is. In addition to my one-shots of Somebody Told Me, came this strange idea where the fans had a musing with the Transformers within a built up imaginary sanctuary club, upon which both Autobot and Decepticon could relax, with humans as well. Mind you, I'm completely aware that self-inserts aren't too highly appreciated in the fandom of Transformers, and you know what? I. Don't. Care. Because this, this I feel, is unique. So here is a bit with Frenzy and a fan that seems rather unknown to the audience, or is she? 

---  
**Song:** Breathe In - Frou Frou  
**Characters:** Frenzy, Unknown  
**Summary:** Sometimes we're pushed into things so fast, we never get a chance to breathe, we never get a chance to sit down and momentarily reflect on what we have done, or what we are about to do. Relax, find a friend, dance, and _breathe_.  
--- 

**Breathe In**

---

"Relax. Just follow my lead, alright?" When the flesh stroked the first sight of the metal, he had relaxed in body, but never in mind. She was significantly smaller than he, perhaps two heads, but nonetheless, she could of a proved a threat for all he knew. The smile didn't hint at anything more then a temporary dance, and the stance didn't hint at anything more than a good time, so he faltered, if not but momentarily, then for the remainder of the song.

The night had been a rather upsetting one, what with learning of information he perhaps would of been better without; but had he not known in the first place, it probably would of seemed selfish to not care to begin with. He had already exploited this care to the other, and the other appreciated it, but nothing more. He couldn't do anything more than leave without saying another word, and it was then he had realized she was standing outside. She hadn't been eavesdropping, and even if she was, she kept a good show of hiding it, but she was there simply to be there, away from the rest of the party that exploded down below.

The banisters kept the other rooms rather private, and the rafters were creaking every so often with one of Thundercracker or Starscream's movements, who were situated comfortably among them. It was a large area, and it was familiar, for it was the housing place of peace and party, where their fans could enjoy themselves among a cup of soda, and the Decepticons and Autobots were known by no other name than their personal ones, and the natural name of Transformers. It was a home, a sanctuary, where problems should be lifted for whatever reason. Even Starscream himself could not bade a comment of ruthlessness towards the Autobots, even as Prime sat below him chatting with a fellow mech. The entertainment stage was brightly lit in the center, while the red curtain remained closed, and a few Autobots, namely Jazz, Ratchet, Wheeljack and Prowl sat contently among it, watching the fans dance it out in the middle of the floors. No one could start a fight here, and if they did, it ended with a mild show of laughter and a clinking of ice against glass, and glass against glass.

But even so, a problem lingered here and there, be it in the topic of conversation or in one of the private rooms among the banisters. It seemed to go unnoticed, unless one was the cause or in the vicinity of the problem, which in particular, he seemed to be. She'd promised it'd go away, but she had never said when, even as he curiously wondered her direction, his hand in hers, as she lead him from the shadows and out to the dance floor. Dancing seemed to solve most of their problems, these humans, he noticed it when he first came here. There was nothing wrong with breaking out any move, or any body part to the beat of music. There seemed nothing wrong with it at all, whether you were being watched by your friends or enemies. Maybe that's why nothing ever seemed to go wrong here, and nothing ever seemed to take place here other than the parties. The songs they danced to, they may of only heard the beat, for he heard so many songs that screamed violence and death, and yet they carried on, happily ever after as some of the books he once read had said. This was indeed a sanctuary, as simple and vulnerable it seemed to look from the outside.

"Why are you doing this?" He shook his mind from his thoughts to confront her. She gazed up at him, eyes glistening with the lights that emitted from the various parts of the room. It was dim, but every so often a spotlight would hit the right spot, as he assumed its name confirmed, and he was amazed by the strange beauty of a human's eyes. Whether male or female, their eyes were peculiar, nothing like the dead onset of optics, that only dimmed and brightened, much like those spotlights. She smiled, and stepped back, and he followed in step as the beat would slow and speed at different intervals.

"You don't do this?"

"I've never done this. Too busy fighting." She frowned slightly at the latter of his sentence, and it occured to him that humans were made mostly out of emotion, not for purpose. Unlike him and his fellow cassettes, along with the rest of the Decepticons, he was made to fight, there wasn't really a time when he wasn't, other than recharging and perhaps a chat or two. But those chats provoked emotion, unless it was with Shockwave, in who's case you were left with a rulebook of logical and illlogical purposes to pursue. Maybe he only noticed it because Rumble referred to him as the "mushiest" of the Decepticons, always putting emotion first, despite he hid it well with his loyalty. Nonetheless, he probably agreed with him secretly, but never more.

"You're missing out on alot, you know."

"Can't say I find entertainment with moving around to something intangible."

"So why do you fight?" There was a question he kept trying to answer. It struck him only then that she had a good reason to ask it. Why did he fight? He moved around to something intangible. War. He fought a war with the Decepticons, choosing a side only because he was created for it. Why did he fight? To keep his caretaker safe? Or the other cassettes? Or maybe for himself, or Megatron, or whoever seemed to lead in the momentary times when Starscream claimed he'd taken over. Why did he fight?

"Maybe that's why you don't dance." She answered the question herself when he didn't. He looked at her, a tad confused. She grinned. "You don't know why you fight, so I assume you don't know why you'd dance."

"...I guess." He couldn't honestly come up with a response to it. She stepped back, pulling him forward. "Why do you dance?" Stupid question. Maybe he was trying to start conversation, even though he knew very well where it lead to. Emotions. She laughed and smiled again. She seemed to do that alot. He wasn't use to it, unless it was a smug one from one of the cassettes. He wondered momentarily if the Autobots smiled as much as the humans, since they seemed to be around them so much. The Decepticons were only around them when they needed to be, or were invited to be, such as these nights, and why they existed.

"Because I love you, no? Can't help but love, you know..." It took him a moment to realize she was singing to the music. Maybe she wasn't even singing, but lipsync. Maybe she wasn't even lipsyncing, but singing. Either way, he wondered if that was the reason they listened to music. It seemed to be as emotive as themselves. Maybe he wondered too much. It was then that he didn't even realize he was thinking about dancing. He was just moving. Moving to something as intangible as war itself. War was nothing but emotions come to think of it, so why was he fighting it? Why was Shockwave fighting it, or Soundwave, or even Megatron? Come to think of it, Megatron had too many reasons. Reasons he kept private and public. This was a place where all of those problems seemed to disappear, and he was in this place. So why should they still be apparent.

It was then that he just stopped thinking, and if he did, it was more light-hearted thoughts, such as why so many people had arguments over what color he was or should be, or why they kept changing the vehicles Jazz turned into, or why Bumblebee was Goldbug and Goldbug was Sparkplug. Or maybe why so many died in that god-forsaken movie the humans produced, or maybe why he was dancing with a human. That seemed light-hearted in itself, and he had to laugh. She grinned and chuckled, and the two of them spun across the floor, ever so delicately paying attention to the music, and ever so strongly enjoying themselves. Who cared what happened tomorrow, or the day before? It was today, tonight, a night of many nights in a year, but it was tonight, and they were enjoying it. Though as soon as it seemed to begin, and as long as it seemed to ever end, the song ended, and the two made their seperate ways. She remained on the floor, for to her, as she had said countless times on and off the banister, the night was young, and there was too much to do to recharge or sleep or whatever a human did. He decided to head back to the privacy of the dark rooms, away to where the music was but a dim dream in their minds.

He pondered the life of a human for some reason, and how short it was. Maybe that was the reason for the flashy shows, the entertainment, the smiles, the laughter, the drinks, the show-offs, the haters, the lovers, and the dances. The dances in particular. Maybe that's why. It kept them satisfied, and away from their problems when they needed to be dealt with later. He quietly pondered the girl's problems, and wondered how or if she even had any. Either way, the thoughts died away as he headed back to the room they'd reserved for the cassettes. Either way, the cassettes he shared the room with could be as smug and taunting and mocking of him as long as they'd want. He wouldn't be able to find any insult of theirs worth frowning at. Either way, he was satisfied.


	5. Remind Me To Take On Me: TC, Mirage

---  
**Song:** How You Remind Me To Take On Me - Mashups of Nickelback & Ah-Has  
**Characters:** Thundercracker, Mirage  
**Summary:** Sometimes we don't always agree on the same things, and sometimes we become seperated, and pitted against each other in order to settle the dispute. But what if, in the middle of all the chaos, two individuals find that they are both fighting for the exact same thing?  
--- 

**Remind Me To Take On Me**

---

War. It's amazing what three little letters can possibly bring to mind. So many have thought of the word love, and year after year, billions of songs and stories and rhymes and thoughts and lives and deaths have brought it all down to that one world. He'd read somewhere, though he couldn't remember where, maybe that library he watched Starscream burn down, maybe...but he'd read somewhere about a man in the past, Buddha if he recalled it right, Buddha had said that there was a balance to everything. Something called a yin and a yang. Autobots and Decepticons. War and Love? Perhaps that's all war was nowadays, to anyone. Perhaps that's all love was nowadays, to anyone. To him, or to the one against him.

Somewhere, there was a song playing, by that cursed Jazz. He wondered why the Autobot favored music so much, like the cassettes, like Soundwave, like the humans...It occured to him he could compare. Compare so many things from experiences, to just sitting there and listening, whether it was to Skywarp, especially Skywarp of all cases. The tales, the stories, the books, that library...He could compare to absolutely everything. But Jazz was playing a song he could compare to specifically. It was a sad song, one meant to be depressing, ever so depressing, or thoughtful, or concentrative, whatever the hell word that thesaurus in the library could have came up with, he could _compare_. Behind the depression, behind the thoughts, the concentration was undeniable proof of a beat speeding, flying, entitled to every wish and dream ever compensated by any mind that existed throughout time. It was _happy_. Ever so happy, and he could compare. The word was annoying him now, but it was only then that it started to annoy him, and it was only then that the damn thesaurus that had lodged itself in his thoughts from that library, it had disappeared from all beliefs.

He wanted to scream. That's what he wanted to do. He, of all of the seekers who wanted to be, was against the back of another back, the back of an Autobot. But he couldn't shoot, he couldn't stop thinking, he couldn't kill him. It was a damned Autobot! A somebody, of all somebodies, it was an Autobot, his dire enemy. Or so called enemy. Enemy or not, friend or foe, as he had so many on the Autobot and Decepticon side, did it honestly matter what the hell they were called anymore? There was only one word for all of this, and even the thesaurus couldn't attack his mind with other words for it. It was war.

He wanted to scream. That's all he wanted to do. And today was a perfect day to scream, because he couldn't be heard by anyone over the sounds of guns and screams and shouts. His own would be no differently interpreted by anyone if he screamed, except by himself and the one against him. He gritted his teeth, and his optics dimmed temporarily, letting the music beat closer, all the while not caring, because he couldn't be seen, except by himself and the one against him.

Mirage hated Thundercracker. He had to, he was a Decepticon and Mirage was an Autobot. But he wondered elsewhere. Jazz had that music playing, and for some reason it made no sense to him, but perhaps that was only because he had never really been able to relate to it. He couldn't really get the time in to think anymore, from the constant fights of the war to the constant bickering of Cliffjumper on his aft from time to time, questioning his alliance. Half the time, he did it himself, he didn't need some other freak doing it for him. The humans never bothered him; in fact, the humans, the ones he knew, were fascinated with him, rather than who he was with. It was in those times he thought of himself as an individual. But only then. He couldn't think of himself as anything more, and right now, he could only think of himself as one thing. An Autobot against a Decepticon. He hated Thundercracker.

He wanted to scream. That's all he wanted to do. Today was such a grand day to scream! At anyone and anything, let us scream! His mind kept processing the thoughts over and over, and he had to smile. Aside from being back to back, behind a boulder, away from the fights, against a Decepticon of all things, he had to smile. Just the thought of his mind wanting him to scream, knowing it'd go unnoticed, gave him that amusement of the day. Oh, how he wanted to scream.

"AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!!!" It was like a sword slicing through air, or perhaps a mood slicing through another's mood, or the bullet through the chest, or the metaphors through the logical thinking. That thesaurus was really digging into him, even though he never really had it to begin with. Starscream had burned it. But he was screaming, and he had enjoyed screaming until he had realized someone else was screaming. It wasn't one of those screams that usually irritated him, or even those that amused him. It wasn't one of those screams that usually escaped his throat, or another's throat, or the ones he cringed at, like a human's throat or Skywarp's throat. It was a scream just like his. Another comparison. It was a scream. But it wasn't his, even though it was like his.

It took Mirage a moment to realize he'd been screaming, that it had just escaped him without permission or even a second thought. But while he had screamed, someone else had screamed, at the same time, in the same space, in the same tone and rhythm to the beat of that music that continued to play out on the battlefield. That ever so happy-go-lucky music that maybe had happy-go-lucky lyrics to add to it. Mirage never really had that happiness, or maybe he never really had that luck. Unless one counted the amount of Turbofoxes he'd slain and taunted countless times on Cybertron, he never really had that happiness or luck. Here, he questioned that notion. Here, it was then that he questioned his hate. His alliance.

In fact, it was here that the both of them had frozen up, joints unnerved, yet not shaking, as if time was supposed to freeze, but it had instead caught them. If one of the others would of even been able to see either of them, momentarily, one of the others would of noticed the scaringly comparsion between the both of them---if they weren't already scared to death by the straight line that slid down between them, ever so thin, ever so ready to break. It would turn horizontal at most, or maybe there'd be another line that straight that'd snap in both of their minds, like one of those television shows the humans watched to express an emotion or a realization. Realization that the thought had struck the both of them at the same time, that the line was itching, stretching, screaming, just as they had, to break.

"Are we having fun yet?"  
"Yeah."  
"No."

With every question, or every response, in this case there were only two and one question, they answered it the same. The only thing different? Nothing really, unless you exploited their alliances, their voices. But the tone was the same, the actions the same, the stance the same, the doubts and the questions and the answers and the minds racing the same. It was all the same. How could they stand on two different lines, or across from each other and stare into each other's optics and actually be so different? So what if one could fly and one could drive. One could go as fast, just as much as the other. So what if one was bad and one was good. One could go as evil, just as much as the other can go good. There was no difference. Both of them thought the same thing. One had to move.

Thundercracker struck first, even though he considered himself the black piece on the chessboard. White usually went first, but he had to strike first. The other didn't seem to do anything though. He expected the attack, and the both of them fell to the ground, one of the only things Thundercracker could ever really hate. Being grounded. But here, while touching the ground, he was on top, and the Autobot was on the bottom. Now that they were face to face, they could actually see each other, and realize what had made them so different.

Mirage stared at the Decepticon logo on Thundercracker's wings. He wasn't going to stare at the seeker's optics, for he knew what he'd see. He'd seen it before, and he pondered if the other had even noticed. Even if he did, they'd be where they were before, frozen together and staring, realizing. The logo itself however proved more of a distraction that the optics staring at him. If you switched perhaps, one, two, maybe it was three. Yes, three lines. If you switched three lines, that logo would be no different from the Autobot's. Unless you counted the fact one was purple and one was red. Both were lovely colors really, now that Mirage thought about it. Both were really "cool", as the humans put it, to look at. Both.

"Stop it." Thundercracker muttered, though it escaped him rather painfully. He forced his weight onto Mirage, but the Autobot barely flinched. Tackling more than enough times in the past had built up the immunity. He stared at the Autobot, waiting. But he couldn't really wait, because he knew exactly what to expect. So what was he waiting for? Even the thesaurus laying in ashes on the street of St. Herald Boulevard wouldn't tell him.

"It's not like you didn't kn---"

"I KNOW. STOP IT." Thundercracker interrupted him. That's what he was waiting for. To finish off the comparisons, that thesaurus was flipping itself through his mind, page after page, word after word, similarity after similarity. It was here and now that he just wanted to throw away everything he ever knew. Even knowing was comparing to the Autobot beneath him. His fists clenched, but it only squeezed the dirt between them into smaller grains; grains that would simply escape him later when he didn't give a damn about them.

Mirage heard the fists squeak ever so slightly as they tightened, but nothing on his person ever creaked or painfully registered in return. Unless one considered the aspects of the mind itself, which, in Mirage's case, as well as Thundercracker's, was screaming pain from every neuron that a human could ever posess in one lifetime. He temporarily pondered if Thundercracker realized he was breathing excessively hard, the air intakes perhaps straining with pressure. He temporarily then pondered if Thundercracker did know that, and in essence, Thundercracker was questioning him just as well. The silence was frightening, in other thoughts. Other thoughts that probably just transferred from Thundercracker Academy, if there was such a place, which there probably was in Thundercracker's mind. That was the whole point. He shook his head, and put his gun on the ground, taking his free hand and pushing on Thundercracker's cockpit.

The seeker looked down at the action, and it didn't even take that much of a push. As if on command, like a cassette to Soundwave, he just backed off. Neither of them were here for the fight. Neither of them were ready for it. Not this one. Not this time. Maybe another time. Another time when there was just enough anger to throw away everything in either of their minds.

Standing, neither of them looked at the other's optics. Mirage simply picked up his gun, his back towards Thundercracker, and walked from behind the boulder. He didn't take a shot at another seeker, for it reminded him too much of Thundercracker. He didn't even answer his comrades when they shouted to him, but made his way back, as himself, never the vehicle, to the Ark, located five miles away.

Thundercracker watched him as he left, and turned, thrusting himself into the air. He didn't take a shot at another Autobot, for it reminded him too much of Mirage. He didn't even answer Starscream's orders, Megatron's scream, or even Skywarp's questions. He made his way back to the Decepticon headquarters, located five miles away.

_I was waiting on a different story._

Mirage paced Teletran-1, waiting ever so patiently, or as patiently the pacing seemed to hint to. He didn't want to know anymore than he already knew, and it was enough knowledge to last him the universe. After an hour, he was done waiting, and simply sat down on the floor, uncaring. He thought back to the times on Cybertron, before the wars had begun, before the planet called Earth had been named, before he even knew of Optimus Prime or Cliffjumper, or before he even failed at an attempt to meet his friends for their weekly cycle of Turbofox hunting. He realized the life he had now was so different from then. It had to be. This was war, and back there it was peace. Or at least, it was a war he had never knew of, or begun to fight. He'd been wanting a different story from Thundercracker. He'd been wanting to see hatred, simply because it was Mirage. Simply because he alone had a spark worth having, and was fighting for something Thundercracker hated. But he'd never gotten that story. He had picked up the wrong book at the library before those damn seekers had burnt it down. The one he picked up had told of wars for centuries, and he even had a fancy little dictionary to tell him all those words he couldn't process correctly. Thundercracker however, gave him a different book. Maybe it was the right book, and maybe in essence, both of them were supposed to read it---or maybe they weren't. Perhaps the latter, for then, they wouldn't be having this particular war. Well, he'd been wrong before.

_I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling._

Thundercracker soared over the first two miles, but then he had to stop. Below him, a small town echoed and it hit him then that there was a sign worth reading. He had stopped and landed, and he had looked at the sign, ignoring those around him. He pondered momentarily, then kneeled down near the marble stairs of the library. As if he'd never been evil, he questioned a small boy who marvelled at the size of the seeker, and with a nod, the boy dashed off. Not out of fear or fright, and he didn't even dash down the road. Instead, he disappeared behind the glass doorway of the library. A moment passed before the boy returned, and in his hands he grasped a thick tome. He held it up to the seeker with a grin, and the seeker had to return it. He looked around, and wondered if there was maybe a better way of thanking him, but all the small boy wanted was an autograph. It was a little difficult with the small items, smaller than the boy! But Thundercracker managed, and handed the notebook back to the grinning human. Backing away, Thundercracker lifted back into the air, and thought back to the time when he had read that Buddha nodded to everything he wished to thank. He'd nodded, at least, he'd thought he did, as he returned to the headquarters. Landing there, he looked at the tome in his hand, and disappeared inside, feeding it through the scanners. Within minutes, the information was in his hand, at a more proper size, for him to run through. While Starscream may of destroyed the library on St. Herald Boulevard, Thundercracker had found another more convienent one located on Sunstroke Avenue. This time, he wouldn't lose the thesaurus. He kept it to himself, even after the many hours of battle had waded away and the Decepticons had returned, and he would take an hour out of the day, when he wasn't needed, to read it. Over and over again.

Somewhere in the world, or outside of it, or near Cybertron, or any other world out there, there was a satellite so sophisticated that it had picked up thought waves. Somewhere, that satellite was transmitting the same message from an Autobot and a Decepticon, who's sides fought so differently, yet thought so similarily, that it locked up, and fell to its home planet in a fit of rage that it couldn't process it. Six simple words, that even the thesaurus didn't need to help Thundercracker translating. Six simple words, that even the dictionary didn't need to help Mirage defining.

_This is how you remind me..._


	6. Ice Queen: TC, Skywarp

And here's a fic inspired by Devi's little shorty. I got this weird vision for it. Blame it on my love of Narnia and TF. :D So here's a 'prequel' to her shorty ficlet. And unfortuantely, is a bad site for not letting me link to her fic ;; But all the inspiration goes to her!

* * *

**Song:** Ice Queen - Within Temptation  
**Characters: **Skywarp, Thundercracker   
**Summary: **Mother Nature's children never took to kindly to their invasion of the planet.

* * *

**Ice Queen **

* * *

Battle. It was the term one used to describe smaller skirmishes in a great war, and it was the place, moreso the home to some, of the bitter-hearted and the hated. There were no kind souls here, even if you were fighting the good side of the battle, you wouldn't have such mercy for the miserable things that seemed to get in your way. It was always the belief that the Decepticons gave no two damns for the Autobots, and the Autobots gave none for the Decepticons to reward themselves with. Everyone knew this. She knew this, and here she was to end it, standing over the ridge, gazing down with hardened eyes at the battle below her. 

She was such a miserable soul. She was a horrifying and ridiculing soul that gave no mercy herself, because to her, all of them were against her. The Autobots, the Decepticons, the humans, whatever you believed was the good side was no good for her. They ruined her mother's land, and they ruined her own beauty. Her cloak billowed behind her, as white as the snow that fell upon it, and her eyes and gown were as blue as the ice-flavored skies that screamed overhead. She was not here to enjoy this battle. She was here to end it.

Of course, below, and in the air, no one even saw her perch. No one could of, since they were immersed in their own battle during the blizzard. Four Autobots were down, three of the Decepticons, and still the battle raged with seven on one side, and six on another. Two in particular rose up into the air, their turbines spinning ferociously, fueling their adrenaline. Together they hit what seemed to be the peak of the sky, and then they dropped, nosediving towards an unsuspecting Jazz. Luckily or unluckily, depending on which side one could of been routing for, Jazz dived out of the way, disappearing beneath a snow dune. An explosion occured near by, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a group of humans in green suits waving their apologies from behind their cannon. Laughter filled the air as Skywarp and Thundercracker streaked across the sky. It was a game to them, for they had taken up the goals of simply diving at an Autobot, and expecting the humans to hit them on their own. That one was close. But not close enough. Skywarp rolled onto his back in the air, transforming and looking over at Thundercracker, who replicated his movements. Behind them, the humans were preparing another futile attempt to hit them, in which they'd choose another victim for them to accidently hit. They slowed, gazing over the landscape, and Thundercracker glanced over at Skywarp.

She stared at the two seekers as they flew towards her perch, unawares of the ridge before them. Perhaps they were aware, but weren't aware of the being standing atop it. Either way, she could not be seen in this weather. She would not let herself be seen. Her gaze hardened, and she gritted her teeth angrily. They were destroying her mother's world, and she did not appreciate any of it. Her mother may be dead, but never should they be allowed to ruin her creations she left for what were once known as peaceful beings. This was not peace. This was everything but peace, and it made her heart colder than it had ever been created to be. This was now her land, and as the daughter of Mother Nature, one of four, she was going to return it to the grave of the blessed.

Raising her hand straight in the air, she flattened her palm, brushing her fingers firmly against Skywarp's wings as he and Thundercracker passed over. Skywarp yelped, and arched his back painfully, screeching as his fuel lines and hydraulics froze up from her touch. A thin sheen of white covered the wing, slithering its way quickly over the rest of his wing span, before sliding down his back and legs. He screamed until the ice reached his throat, in which it stalled. Thundercracker was caught off guard, thinking an Autobot had shot at him, before he turned and realized the screaming was that of Skywarp. His optics brightened and he looked down, his gaze catching the sight of a human hand against Skywarp's wing. He lost altitude and fell below Skywarp, facing her directly, although unsure what he was really looking at. The Ice Queen stared at him, removing her hand and disappearing before a whistling sound connected with Skywarp's cockpit. The missle exploded on impact, sending the seeker spiraling down to the snow. Appearing a few feet from the wreckage, she turned and made her way back to her imaginary castle, content the message had been received. Behind her, a distressed Thundercracker screamed his comrade's name, diving into the white blanket she'd set beneath them.


End file.
